Dream
by oh-mother-of-darkness
Summary: As Batman and Robin, Dick and Damian follow a mission out of town. They stay for a few days. Damian has a problem with that.


The hotel room was dark— too dark to write— so Damian slid open an inch of blackout curtain. The slice of light fell perfectly across his lap and onto the dresser beside him. Across the room, Grayson shifted softly, but he remained asleep.

 _Day three,_ Damian wrote. _It is difficult to stay awake._

The first night had been easy; he and Grayson followed their targets down south, out of the city and into new turf. They found the hideout immediately. They were Batman and Robin— of course they did. At the hideout, they learned that the shipment they expected wouldn't arrive until three days later.

Grayson decided to wait. He said that the ring was unpredictable; if they left, it might move, and then they would lose their chance. They would stay in town, gather information, and strike when the time was right.

Damian didn't like the plan, but he hadn't said so. He wouldn't show weakness. He could power through. He volunteered to take the first shift awake and spent the three hours cleaning his equipment while he listened for sounds from the bugs they planted.

Nothing happened. Grayson woke up, and Damian took the bed. He turned away from Grayson, so his open eyes wouldn't be visible. He held still and breathed shallowly, evenly, like he was asleep. Grayson believed he was.

Damian did not fall asleep. Three hours later, they switched again, and Damian spent his shift recording their case notes in the black book he had taken from the stack in the cave. His father didn't need casebooks anymore. His father was dead.

Another switch: Damian lay still and pretended to sleep. It was easy. One day without rest was nothing.

The second day was harder. During the day, Damian and Grayson were up together, listening and planning. At night, Damian sketched in his casebook during his shifts awake. When he was meant to sleep, he fought to keep his eyes open. He had to stay awake. If he didn't…

Day three: Damian was tired— tired enough for his vision to blur and his body to ache. His eyes itched. His hands shook. Grayson slept while he wrote.

 _I have read my father's files. He was able to go days at a time without sleep and still fight crime as he always did. I will learn to cultivate that skill. Grayson will never know that I have not slept, and he will never see me sleep. There will be consequences if he does._

 _Grayson believes that I am a child, with a child's capabilities. He is wrong; however—_

Damian cut off. There was a small sound from outside their door: soft movement in the hallway, the kind that could be an enemy approaching. Damian set his casebook, still open, on the dresser and crept towards the door.

The same sound came from directly outside. Damian pulled a knife from his boot and yanked open the door.

A startled mouse scuttled down the hallway. Everything else remained still.

Lovely. Damian stepped outside for a quick security sweep, just in case, but found nothing out of the ordinary. Reassured, he retreated back to their room. He slipped through the cracked door, pulled it shut, and stood just inside, waiting for his eyes to readjust to the darkness after the lights of the hallway. When they did, he found Grayson out of bed, leaning against the dresser.

"Just a rodent," Damian reported. "Otherwise quiet."

"Good," said Grayson, holding up Damian's casebook. "Would you care to explain?"

Damian froze. "Explain what?"

"This says, and I quote, 'I have not slept.'"

"I'm not tired."

"Bullshit."

"I don't want to sleep."

"Why?"

Damian considered his options and decided on the truth— a understated version that might stop the questions. "Nightmares," he shrugged. "I prefer to stay awake."

"For three nights, when you're on the job and need to stay alert?"

"It's not a problem. I trained for this."

"Bull-shit," Grayson repeated, drawing out the word.

"I'm not a child."

"So I read."

"I can handle myself."

"Your hands are shaking."

Damian looked down. They were.

"You're benched," said Grayson. "Get some sleep."

"No."

"Yes."

Damian clenched his shaking hands into fists. "You need a second man."

"I need a partner that can watch my back effectively, and right now that isn't you. You're sleep-deprived, and you'll make mistakes. You're a liability, not an asset."

Damian crossed his arms.

"C'mon, Damian," said Grayson, crossing his arms too. "Tell me the truth. Why didn't you sleep."

"I have nightmares."

"And?"  
"And I didn't want—" Damian cut off. "It's none of your concern."

"Is it because of Bruce? You want to follow his example?"

"No."

"Because his example was _shit_. He never took care of himself, and I don't want you thinking—"

"I didn't want you to see me like that!" Damian bust out.

Grayson stepped back in surprise. His frustration softened fractionally. Damian got the feeling he hadn't expected to get anywhere. "Like what?"

"Afraid."

"Oh."

Damian stared at the floor so he didn't have to look at Grayson's face. "I'm not weak."

"I never said you were."

"It's what you think."

"It's not. Look, Damian… I've been there, okay? It's hard to be vulnerable, especially when… especially _because_ of who we are. There's this pressure to be, I don't know, invincible. It's hard to be human when people… and you… expect yourself to be more."

"I'm not a child," Damian repeated.

"It's not childish to be afraid. It's smart. There's a time and place for fear. The only childish thing you did today was try to hide it from me."

"I thought—" Damian cut off again. "Okay."

"You're still benched."

"Fine."

"I'm going to go do some recon. Stay here and sleep."

"You don't have to go."

Grayson shrugged. "You'll be more comfortable. Do I have your word that you'll stay here? No sneaking out?"  
Damian thought about it. "Fine."

"Okay." Grayson pulled on his shoes, grabbed his bag, and headed for the door. "I'll be back before sunrise."

Damian dreamed of drowning. He sank into the ocean. His lungs filled with water. He could taste the salt. His cape wrapped around him as he fell down into the darkness, slowly, painfully towards the seafloor. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move. His vision darkened as he began to die— he could _feel_ himself dying.

Outside the dream, a hand fell on his shoulder.

Damian jerked awake, gasping for air, one hand grabbing for the knife underneath his pillow. He lunged back against the headboard and jabbed the knife in front of him. Grayson stepped backwards to avoid the blade.

"Hey! It's me. It's just me."

Damian collapsed back into the comforter, half-sobbing as he fell. He felt Grayson's hand again, this time in his hair.

"It's okay," Grayson muttered. "It's okay."


End file.
